


(all of my darkness leaving me here) i'm starting all over

by BloodRaven55



Category: RWBY
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, One Shot, Post-Volume 6 (RWBY), just adam being a piece of trash as usual, like there's an equal balance of both i think, nothing too extreme tho, that's the best way i can think to describe it, that's what i was aiming for anyway XD, this is from yang's pov but it's very much about blake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 12:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21243959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodRaven55/pseuds/BloodRaven55
Summary: Yang glances at the notebook briefly, and Blake must sense her curiosity, because she sets it back down on the table and shoots Yang a mildly amused look. “Would you like to see?”





	(all of my darkness leaving me here) i'm starting all over

**Author's Note:**

> Not much to say really. I just felt the urge to write some Bees in the lead up to Volume 7 so I went ahead and wrote this.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

It’s late when Yang slips quietly through the door of her and Blake’s shared room. She half expects her partner to already be asleep— Atlas has been unforgiving on them all so far, and Blake especially has suffered more than her fair share. But instead she finds her partner sitting at the desk, scribbling something in a notebook. It’s the same notebook Blake always used back at Beacon, Yang realises after a moment’s further inspection, and she can’t help wondering what kind of things are in there apart from the drawing of Adam.

Blake looks up and Yang suddenly feels almost bashful as their eyes meet. “Sorry,” her partner says. “I just wanted to get something down before I forgot it but I’ll be done soon.”

Yang reminds herself that telling Blake she doesn’t have to apologise won’t help, and instead she tries a different approach. “There’s no rush. I wasn’t going to sleep just yet anyway.”

She heads into the bathroom to change, and when she comes back out Blake is blowing gently on the page to help the ink to dry. Yang glances at the notebook briefly, and her partner must sense her curiosity, because she sets it back down on the table and shoots Yang a mildly amused look. “Would you like to see?”

“I—“ Yang feels blood rush to her face, embarrassed to have been caught staring, but the fact that Blake doesn’t seem annoyed is reassuring. “Yeah. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“If I did then I wouldn’t have offered,” Blake says with a roll of her eyes, and she hands the notebook over to Yang.

Yang takes it gratefully and sits down on the bed to read. First she closes it for a few seconds, just running her hand over the cover and enjoying the softness of the leather. Then she opens it slowly, humbled by the opportunity to see her partner’s most private thoughts, and flicks through page by page.

The first thing she notices is Blake’s handwriting. It’s— well, if she’s honest, it’s terrible. She can read it without much difficulty, but that’s pretty much the best she can say about it. It’s not surprising since Blake didn’t exactly go through a typical formal education, though, and she actually finds it incredibly endearing. Her partner’s spelling and grammar is absolutely perfect—no doubt as a result of being a prolific reader—but it looks like a spider with a vague knowledge of cursive crawled across the page in its death throes, and the contrast is adorable.

She shifts her attention to the words themselves, taking advantage of this chance to truly glimpse the workings of Blake’s mind for the first time. The start of the book is consumed by Adam. There’s a period at the very beginning where Blake writes a lot about the White Fang in general—its mission, how much she believes in it, why she wants to fight for her people—but gradually his presence seeps into every sentence and every sketch until it no longer feels like Blake is the one writing.

The unmarked blue logo from the inside of the front cover becomes ravaged by the signs of war, and the colour of peace is turned a blood-soaked crimson. The drawings of Ghira and Kali, all soft lines and warm colours, become jagged portraits of black and red, the previous gentleness stolen by the man behind the mask that stares up at her from the paper. She reads every word, even though it hurts more than she could possibly have imagined, because she needs to understand.

She owes it to Blake as well. To be able to support her as well as she can she has to know everything that her partner is willing to share. But that doesn’t mean that her heart doesn’t break with the realisation that she can _see_ the bold, ambitious, hopeful girl who started writing on these pages being stripped away. She can see how the words that he burned into her mind begin to replace her own—_coward, traitor, hot-headed, untrained, weak—_as she comes to believe them to be true.

Eventually she makes it to a series of a few blank pages, and she looks up at Blake in confusion.

“That was— That was after I left him. For a while I couldn’t bring myself to write in it. It felt like he’d tainted it by making me write down all of his lies like they were the gospel truth. But once I got a little more settled at Beacon I decided I wasn’t going to let him take another thing away from me, so I started writing in it again.”

Now even more intrigued, Yang leafs through the pages until she finds the next one that isn’t empty. She can still feel Adam’s influence in the belittling, almost spiteful way that Blake talks about herself, but she can also see it beginning to fade just a little as the book moves forward through their first year at Beacon. There are drawings of Ruby and Weiss on one page—the art style is more like the pictures at the start of the journal, with more gentle textures and fewer hard lines—and she’s taken by surprise when her own image is reflected back at her on the next double spread.

She doesn’t know why she didn’t anticipate it since it only makes sense that Blake drew all of her teammates, but she finds it difficult to tear her eyes away from the obvious care and attention to detail with which her partner has created a stunning likeness of her. The drawing of her almost feels more _alive—_more vibrant_—_than the other somehow, and she’s not sure what to make of it.

She knows when the Fall of Beacon happened because it’s noted by another series of blank pages. This time Blake doesn’t write anything else for a long while, but she does start drawing again. Yang’s eyes widen, her lips parting in shock, and she flips through the pages a little faster, wanting to be sure that her eyes aren’t playing tricks on her.

For months after the night when the school succumbed to Salem’s forces—when Yang lost her partner as well as her arm and Blake lost the first people and place to make her feel safe in years—the only thing that Blake draws is Yang. Side after side of paper is covered with sketches of her. Some of them are rough doodles, some of them are full blown portraits. In every one she’s in a slightly different pose— a different expression on her features. And the only thing that all of the images have in common is that Blake isn’t in any of them.

A single tear stains the corner of a page as Yang realises that Blake didn’t even consider herself worthy of being the subject of her own journal, and she freezes when soft fingers cup her face, tenderly wiping away the rest of her tears before any more can fall. She must have been so engrossed in the book that she didn’t even notice when her partner came to sit next to her. Blake offers her a sad smile, and Yang knows that she doesn’t need to explain her reaction.

“Carry on,” Blake says. “You’re nearly at the end. Well, at the present, I should say.”

So Yang does. As Blake said, there aren’t many pages left that have been filled, but it warms her heart and makes her feel a little lighter to see the change once Blake reunites with the team— with them. Her partner’s voice is far more clear in every word she writes, and there are even some drawings of Blake herself scattered throughout the pages. Compared to the other pictures they’re simple, the lines bolder and the colours stronger, but they’re of Blake, and that makes them Yang’s favourites by default.

She can see the pieces of who Blake was before Adam tried to break her coming back together plain as day, like light shining through the cracks, and it has her spellbound.

When she reaches the end she closes the book and sets it aside, unsure of what she can possibly say that would encapsulate everything that she’s feeling right now. She’s worried that silence will seem dismissive after the immense gift of trust Blake just gave her by letting her read something so intimate, but she’s also worried that anything she tries to say won’t do her partner justice.

“Hey,” Blake says, tapping a finger lightly to the tip of Yang’s nose. “You’re thinking too much.”

Yang can’t help the giggle that escapes as her nose scrunches up in response to her partner’s teasing, but she forces herself to stop laughing so that she can say what she needs to. “I just— I want to be everything you deserve. And sometimes I worry that I have no clue what I’m doing here, and—”

The rest of her sentence is lost as Blake’s lips press against her own, and Yang immediately forgets what she was going to say, sinking into her partner with a sigh of contentment. They haven’t been dating long, but Blake has already worked out that kissing is the fastest and most effective way to get Yang to be quiet, and Yang can’t say she’s too disappointed with the results.

In the end Yang reluctantly pulls back to catch her breath, and Blake bumps their foreheads together momentarily in what is rapidly becoming one of their favourite ways to show affection. “What am I going to do with you?” Blake says, her voice full of fondness, and Yang grins sheepishly.

“Cuddle with me?”

Blake laughs, but she obliges without hesitation, waiting until Yang’s sat back comfortably against the pillows before curling into her side and resting her head on Yang’s chest. Minutes pass in comfortable silence, and then Yang yawns. It occurs to her that they should probably get some sleep soon, and she looks down at where Blake has made herself very much at home and doesn’t seem to have any intention of moving.

“Baby, we should probably try to get some rest soon.”

Blake’s answer is a muffled sound of displeasure as she wraps herself even more tightly around Yang, and Yang resigns herself to staying like this at least a little longer.

“You’re warm,” Blake mumbles into her neck by way of an explanation for her reluctance to move, and Yang smiles, thinking that she’d be quite happy to stay like this for the whole night, actually. Or forever. Preferably forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading as always!
> 
> If you feel like leaving a comment then let me know whether it was suitably feelsy and fluffy, any comments at all except for non-constructive feedback are not just welcomed but greatly appreciated.
> 
> Anyway I'll see you all next time :D


End file.
